


Uninterested Crow (Reader-Insert)

by trendingtrash



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, F/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Original Character(s), Post-Avengers (2012), Reader Wants No Shit, Reader-Insert, Totally Not Apart Of The Avengers, kidding, reader is cool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 23:06:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13177110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trendingtrash/pseuds/trendingtrash
Summary: Known as the 'Crow', Y/N works on the cheap side and is very cautious not to capture any of the Avengers attention. This proves fruitless, however, when on one of your self-given missions takes a turn for the worse: this involves strip-clubs, a raffle, and some interesting characters that prove to be deadly. This not only draws your attention, but the attention of the renowned superhero group - and shortly into the alarming night you have to rely on the team to survive and burn the organisation to the ground.





	Uninterested Crow (Reader-Insert)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little scared in doing this fan-fiction, first of all is because I'm a little worried that I'm gonna to make this horrible and the characters even more so. 
> 
> Also I'm not to sure if there be romantic interests or flings with Y/N, but if their is chemistry, I'll look into flinging them together.
> 
> The time-frame of this book...? That I'm still working on. But I'll get there and inform you when I know myself XD

A finely crafted bird you were. Crow was your best description, though you didn’t even spurt wings let allow share a beak as a bird would: Crow was just an metaphor for your existence and it fitted well. Able to figure out problems well, communicate indifferently in multiple ways, learn quickly, hold grudges, ruin crops - and when you meant crops, you meant the harvest of expenses and furthermore _life_ \- you were the metaphorical Crow, who appeared once but not twice in every situation. All part from when the Avengers were involved however.

The ‘superhero’ group was immensely talented - so much that it frightened you. You weren’t partially interested in gathering the attention of the Avengers and the group the lingered with them: S.H.I.E.L.D. If you showed your interest in them, it could backfire - and you didn’t want that. You were perfectly happy being your own agent and having no eyes watching you.

And hey, maybe you weren’t even that worth the investment and they weren’t interested at you at all! Maybe you were overselling yourself here; or you could be just selling yourself _just_ right.

Either way you weren’t going to find out and so you remained to your dirtied streets and underside criminals, where drug dealings were more frequent than that of a ‘world domination’ cue. Which, you may point out, you were fine with, it fitted your lifestyle better than any lifestyle would.

Sighing at the dismissive thought, you looked mildly over the three-stacked buildings that lingered in the fading sunlight. Even for your standards, the buildings were rough here, the cement holding it together splitting dangerously. Maybe, you reflected, if you pointed one of them at the right angle it’ll topple all four. _What organisation is so big to take up four buildings, yet so underrated that it stations itself in a crappy building?_

A secret one.

And secret ones usually were the dangerous ones. Sighing for the second time, you finally shifted from your position, calves cramping as you stood amongst the shadows of a run-down thrift-shop. This too, being one of the possibly owners that were involved with the organisation.

Which was surprising, the owner was a middle-aged woman who had six children (all of which that have left home) three grandchildren and all with a clean record - even the woman herself. So why know?

Sure this second-hand store wasn’t a profit, but she owned another store closer into the square which went reasonably well. She shouldn’t be in for the money - unless of course she _was_ and just wanting the _extra_ money. Sadly nobody had told her that usually these things fall through.

Was is organisation going to be the typical and fall through?

Well considering that it hadn’t a name yet, your good guess was: yes. But then again you hadn’t concluded on it’s products yet. What was so good that it covered over ten-shitty-acres of land and was _secret?_

Your first guess was drugs - a newfound one that was ‘ _promising to become a new hit that even the celebrities will want to be sponsoring it_ ’. Cliche, you know, but not an uncommon thought.

Then you second guess was a cult. Yes, maybe this group wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. And by cult, you meant a group of people organizing something for something or someone. In their name so to speak. But then again one building would’ve been enough.

So then your third - which should’ve been second admittingly - thought was: Weapons. Weapons that weren’t allowed to be carried with or without a license. High-tec maybe with a promise of death to those who were targeted.

Or, you concluded, it could be an organization that make weapons in someone’s name - like a following doing someone’s bidding. And depending on who, made if your problem or not.

If it was someone important - Earthwise or Universewise - then it was the Avengers duty to look in this… but if it was anyone else…

Moving smoothly, you crept forward into the light of the street, eyes glazing over the building cautiously. You had managed to rack up the information for it’s following, despite you lack of knowledge for everything else. And that information only made you more confused. It wasn’t ‘lower class’ only. Nor ‘upper class’ only. It was a mixture of everyone in society that had you mulling over the legitimacy of the facts.

But you had heard and witnessed the arrival of all said participators. It was alarmingly real. So what was their common cause?

Government - no. Their following came from everyone in the spectrum government wise. Some believed in the president, others didn’t. _Unless someone was lying._

Money - possibly, but falling to no. Some were ridiculously rich - but then again, there could be greed involved-

 _Ugh!_ Only if you knew the ring-leader! That way it could give you a motive that was driving them and therefore lead to conclusions. Despite your knowledge on the following, it never became clear who was the leader.

The first thought was a rich asshole that pretended to sympathize with the poor. That way it would explain the currents of higher ups too. Rich people always had supporters from within their own ring, they would request their presence within the organization to make it believable. The poor would be smittened with their ideas.

The next was rich guy/chick was actually sympathetic with the poor - but then it didn’t explain why other rich men and women were present - unless they were sympathizer too. Which was a generous amount.

And the next thought was a lower-class feeding off the greed of all classes in a promise of something - but what?

You made it across the street unnoticed, nothing in the windows flickered with movement - the street remained quite and eerie. You crept to the door, hands gently searching the bowing wood. The texture was smooth yet soak with moisture, and you had no reason but to believe each three-story building was like this. It was no place to live in or keep things in for that matter. Grimaced you pulled your hand away, pinching away from rotten wood around the wood. It could tumble under the weight if you wanted to kick it down - but you wouldn’t. You had different plans.

Giving the once over of you attire, you knocked, the sound sound hollow and uncertain. You had watched enough people at this door, you knew what they would be expecting. It’s just…

You blinked, shaking the negative thoughts from you mind as the door opened. It was a woman that answered - it appeared that it was answered by an different individual each time - her eyelids batting in your direction as a low purr rolled from her throat. You froze, eyes widening as it dawned on you.

 _A… strip-club…?_ Through behind her shoulder you couldn’t make out poles or stages to solidify your racing thoughts.   _It’s like a brothel._

“Oh darling!” The woman cooed, “Look at you, why are you pretty thing-”

- _why hadn’t this occurred to me before? Why?_

It’ll explain the extra building too, one for the actual girls to sleep and maybe guys too- it’ll also explain the mixture of every status and race. It explained so much and yet it hadn’t even occurred to you. You cleared your throat, startling yourself as you peered over her shoulder one more time, the temptation to walk away proving stronger as the moments passed. “I- I…” you stammered, cheeks reddening.

Despite the impression the woman was giving you, she was dressed modest, her body language possibly from the distance looked relaxed and familiar - but, you reflected, the closer you got the more seductive it looked. And obviously you hadn’t got close enough to make the connection.

The woman lips curled further as demeanor changed, eyes dilating dangerously - maybe even suspiciously - the sweetest off her breath coming to you in waves. _Drugs._ “Not too sure of yourself are you darling?” When you shook your head, she suddenly smiled again, “Come it’s not embarrassing to learn about your sexuality.”

You blushed further. You _knew_ that, hell once upon a time you had questioned if your were bisexual - back in high-school - though you later found out that you were straight when a girl kissed you on the lips back in a party you had stumbled into. The kiss meant nothing, it was when she tried to get other responses from you… that’s when you understood your sexuality. “I know.” You tried, your voice growing stronger.

“Lynx, she’s obviously not into you.” A male voice drawled, approaching from within the depth of the building. He was much to attractive, though eyes dilated wide from the drug like ‘Lynx’.

Lynx pouted, her lips twisting as she looked back to you, “I think, she doesn’t know.” she commented for her pride alone. But the comment worked as she stepped back away from the frame, offering a full-fledged view of the attractive male. Unlike Lyx, he wasn’t dressed modest, the copper of his skin shimmering the the lights of the building. You felt yourself freeze again, eyes hooded as he came to the doorway.

“My, my,” he suggested with a rise of his eyebrow, “I think she does know, darling Lynx. Now shoo.” His wrist flickered in a vague gesture of dismissal. Lynx gave one longing look in your direction before leaving silently. The man turned in undivided attention to you. “I apologize, are you here for the raffle? Or are you here for…” he drifted off, stepping closer, “Me.”

You licked your lips, but you couldn’t deny the raffle sounded like the right path to go - so unfortunately you couldn’t run. “The Raffle, though,” you continued, “I haven’t put forward my name yet-” you explained smoothly.

His smile grew, eyelids heavy as he leant on the frame, “The Raffle closes in a couple of minutes, darling, I thought you were a bit early for the announcement.” He conversationally continued and you found the words to be sincere

You smiled, “Could you-?” You allowed yourself to halt abruptly, eyes glazing hopefully at him.

He barked a laugh, stepping away from the door-frame, reaching out to offer his hand, “I may.”

Though you mind relented, but you took his hand, noting the all to happiness of your body. His hand was smooth - showing no signs of hardwork - and the skin on his arms were unblemished, therefore unbeaten. Whether or not this was a drug, money scheming organisation you had to pay respect that they hadn’t abused their workers as some might have. He lead you through the building, moving with surprisingly good grace of a feline. The room further in had bright, cosmic lights rolling around the rooms, each room getting steadily more bizarre as you moved through.

You forced your eyes straight ahead, your body feeling uncomfortably hot and a small segment of your soul dying with embarrassment. He lead you fully in, before coming to a set of stairs. The rooms and the staircase was well maintained - another pleasant surprise. It was obviously to deceive onlookers from the outside, but it was nothing short of impressive in the inside.

“Ladies first, darling.” He encouraged, hand leading you to the front. Reluctantly you started forward, moving up the stairs cautiously until you got to the landing. It had a different vibe than that of downstairs, it’s whole length and width as a whole room was bright, with a stage at the back - and none to your surprise the room was contestants of the ‘Raffle’.

The guy clasped his hand with yours again, leading you easily through the density of the bodies that waited impatiently. None seemed surprised that he was among them - some even cast him an interested look. Then and only then did everything click together.

This building wasn’t meant to be the ‘Strip Club’, this is where the dealings with money was dealt to. The lower floor was where possibly arrangements were meet - that floor had, for the day, been turned into a orgy for all the following that showed up and waited for the announcement of Winner. The second level as for the the Raffle itself, whilst the third floor… was where they kept the money - or earnings. You made mental note of it.

He guided you to the front, smiling charmingly at the man at the desk, who rallied up the last of the contestants money. You patted feverishly at you pocket, eyes flickering over how much a ticket cost.

_$5 for a single ticket._

What a rip off! You mind chirped loudly, but it didn’t stop your fingers clipping around the only five-dollar note in your pocket. The man moved with ease through the swum of bodies, seemingly unfazed by the ripple of people that attempted to shove their way to the front. Bewildered you found yourself at the front, hand stills secured around the guy’s hand. Through the annoyed retorts for the others, he spoke, “One ticket for-” he gazed at you through heavy-lidded eyelids. He looked drunk on you, as though he was eager to met your wish.

You cleared your throat, “Y/N Kingslay.” You half lied.

He grinned back at the ticket man, “-my darling, Y/N Kingslay.” He kissed your knuckles, looking at you appealingly.

You were sure you were already red, but it didn’t stop you from reddening further. You nodded, slipping the note down. The Ticket Man, with a bowler hat, looked at you friendly, a smile hidden underneath the carefully trimmed mustache. “What number, lassie?”

You leaned forward, shoulders brushing against those who dared push further in. You peered at the empty numbers. _Bingo._  “One hundred and eleven.” You called over the voices, offering a sweet smile. He grinned, fingers working to pull free the slot from _111_.

“Here you go, lassie.” Unable to give it to you, he gave it to your companion, who took he gratefully before pushing back towards you, and guiding the two of you out. You were panting before you were free for the group of people, glad for his ever-warm hand around yours.

He suddenly turned to you, “My dear,” he purred, slipping your paid ticket into your open palm. “I-”

You found yourself smiling, “Thank you for that. Could you maybe…” you hesitated, “stay?” It was better to have a person that knew their way around here to actually accompany you - that way you would be informed of it’s happenings and possibly even look apart for the surroundings.

A broad smile came to his lips, “Of course, darling, I will stay."

“And through that time what should I call you?”

Tipping his head to the side, he watched your with a fond little smile, “Call me anything you want,  little dove.” He was guiding you to can unused chair, whether it had been used previously you didn’t care - you needed time to gather up your thoughts. Slipping the ticket into your pocket, you slumped into the chair, you attention divided alarmingly. This was most definitely a new experience for you. You considered yourself cunning and yet you walked right into this situation without blinking.

But it had to be done, you thought firmly, you had to get a look inside, after all your search had already proven several things that a outside couldn’t show. Looks can deceive.

Oh much you had already figured out.

“When-?”

He shushed you, fingers gently caressing your chin, tilting your head back to him, “Enough time,” his voice was hoarse, “and so what shall we do as we wait?”

You allowed your body to sink forward into his warm chest, “I don't know, surprise me.”

His mouth opened, perfect teeth flashing at you as he offered you an adoring smile, but before he could answer, a gentleman clamped a heavy hand on his shoulder. You had watched him approached, though unaware that his attention was strictly on your partner-

“Excuse me.” He grunted, pushing your companion onto his feet, “I need to speak with her.” His eyes fall onto you. Blue eyes. Old eyes. You felt yourself tense - not for the first time - as realization dawned on you. Your chair rocked backwards, bracing under the balls on your feet as you searched him over. It was either a look-like or Captain America himself, though you couldn’t fathom why _he_ was here.

The other male, eyes narrowed, lips pouting before his dark eyes returned back to you, “Do you wish to speak to him also?”

You couldn’t look away from the Super Soldier, your blood feeling like lead, “Ah yes,” your eyes cast back to the other, “ah, could you…? Could you get me a drink?” Reluctantly the stripper left, nodding vaguely.

“So,” you started first, not wanting to see what he wanted, “Steve Rogues, what brings you here?”

He smiled coolly, seating himself in the chair next to you, “The same reason, I guess, you’re here.” He tested, eyes searching over the crowd, before looking uncomfortable. _Me too, buddie. Me too._

You nodded, “Is it just you?” You asked, though already finding the answer. Natasha was mixed among a group of young individuals that had a clue whom they were talking to. There would be more, you knew. And they knew something you didn’t. “Have you found out the Ring-leader here?” You asked before he could answer your first question.

He looked at you, eyebrow raised, though seeming unfazed by your question, “Have you?”

 _Checkmate._ You frowned, eyes moving over the room and seeing your companion weaving through the crowd. “I’m reckoning that he is high profile considering you involvement…?” you guessed lamely.

A uncertain smile twitched on his lips, “Fair.” He commented drily, as the other male joined you, only desperately to be cut off again-

“ _Welcome Ladies and Gents!”_ The announcement bloomed over speakers, crackling against the eardrums of the listeners. “ _I’m happy to announce the 10th Raffle Night thus far into a thirty week-”_

 _10th!_ Once every three weeks. Thirty weeks. You had only been working on this case for one week! It seemed rudely unfair, but then again that usually was the circumstance, so why were you surprised?

You reached for the drink, though you didn’t dare drink it, eyes watching at the Ticket Man stood on the stage, looking pleased and all too happy to dragged this situation out.

“ _May I call on, numbers nine, thirty-three, sixty-seven, eight-one, one-hundred and one-hundred and one, one-thousand?_ ” You looked in the direction of the Captain America, feeling yourself growing steadily nervous. Thankfully, someone grabbed at your hand, dragging you to your feet. You turned back to your other male companion, his largely dilated eyes watching you interested - and, you noted perplexed, genuinely _happy_ for you.

“Come.” He cooed, leading you up, though it wasn’t really necessary this time. The gathering people parted at your approached, watching you wastefully. You kept your eyes forward, locked on the Ticket Man as though you life depended on it.

The sense of being enclosed was deepening further. You were being circled like an exotic animal in a zoo. You heart hammered, your breaths deepening as you finally understood you position. You had counted each slot. Some individuals had put their name forward multiple times, others just some. You were one in one thousand - and only six hundred stood there.

 _It’s a trap._ Deep down you had understood your position as you put it forward. The Ticket Man reached down, grasping you gently by the elbow as he helped you up the steps and onto the stage, flashing you ticket to him. The other let you go, sinking back into the gathered people with one last reassuring squeeze. The light struck you as you joined the line. You were one of seven now. One of four of the women. One of three of young women. One of one to be classed as ‘middle class’ the rest were ‘lower class’.

You stomach dropped. Averting your eyes away from the bright lights, your eyes racked the faces, making eye-contact with the Black Widow. Slightly confused at your attention, her brow creased before relaxing. You smiled, hands dropping in behind you to the hidden pockets of your costumed made jacket.

“ _As you know there’s always a twist in these Raffles…”_ he drifted off, and you allowed your eyes to scan the people beside you. Three were men - immensely rich looking and dashingly handsome. One was going to be struck half-hearteningly, having to cop someone minor. One was going to earn nothing. The other was going to win big time. One of the poorer women were going to win a large jackpot too, whilst the other two were going have to pay with their lives. Whilst you… you hoped you had picked your lucky number right.

“ _I am pleased to announce that there will be more winners than loser tonight, due to our generous contribution this last three weeks. Only one will have to - unfortunately - stay here for the remainder of their life-”_

Ah, so it’s not all charity then. Your hands found the little knives that you stashed.

 _“-whilst the rest of you walk away free.”_ He continued before adding a dramatic pause. Your eyes found that of the man whose bronze skin glowed in the light. And you felt your heart ache - it wasn’t his desired job, you now realized, now noticing the how flawless he pronounced his words and his regal bearing.

Within the program you knew that there would have to sacrificial lambs of the rich - to keep the poor from catching onto their schemes. Your companion had been one, possibly the only lamb to be offered to keep this organization running.

“ _Let’s start in… no order?”_ His announcement was meet with an applause, and so he went on, _“One-thousand, the highest number, hmmm_?”

The woman - lower-class - nodded, head dipping under as though accepting her fate. She expected to lose - but why?

The Ticket Man flipped the card in his fingers, before reading the piece of parchment closer, _“One-thousand I am happy to announce that you will be receiving the two-hundred dollars tonight!”_

The woman immediately double over, shoulders shaking. You reached for her, hands grasping her slender shoulders and holding firm. “Well done.” You congratulated, unsure on her behaviour. And so was everyone else apparently, the room fall silent as she straightened, her doe-like eyes looking alarmingly at you.

“I’ve got this the last two times.” She whispered, fearfully.

Your eyes widened, the density of the woman’s situation falling hard on you. You looked over to the Ticket Man, who held out the two-hundred cash out in solid fifties. “It’s gonna be okay.” You promised, hand falling away from her shoulder.

She didn’t reply, instead she gathered her money, a uncertain smile playing on her lips as the Ticket Man leant forward and whispered, “ _Well done._ ”

He straightened, microphone back in hand, “ _And then… Eight-one._ ” A rich man, with a dashing smile, looked over to the Ticket Man, brow creased with what seemed as though false worry. Yet, despite his ‘worry’, he nodded and so the Ticket Man continued, fixing his bowler’s hat, _“You sir win, one-thousand in stone-cold cash!”_

The man bowed, smiling winningly. “Thank you.” He applauded as he was handed the money, his face smooth once again.

 _“And the next contestant is… One-hundred and one!_ _This pretty lady-”_ he indicated towards you, as you watched him carefully. You were going to be the one to fall into oblivion - you were going to be the one to take the fall. His statement was met with a few catcalls, as you situation sunk into the other contestants. They seemed to breath a sigh of relief. Unfairly, you hadn’t considered you to be the person to be selected into staying here - you selfishly thought that maybe…

 _“You… you..._ win…” he paused, eyes flickering over the crowd, then back to you, _“the three-thousand dollars._ ” His statement was met with a roar - and you knew that you had chosen your lucky number right. You grinned, mimicking the young man’s bow brilliantly before everything turned sour. Your hands drifted away from you knives once more as you plucked the microphone from the Ticket Man’s hands.

“Let the players be played, ladies and gentlemen.” The microphone dropped and before it could roll away, your knives had already found necks to be plunged into.


End file.
